Dice, Camera, Action!: Wrath of Strahd, Part II
by Wramysis
Summary: In the alternate timeline where the Waffle Crew interrupted the Dark Powers' plan to corrupt Strahd, he nevertheless struggles to keep his fury in check.


A.N.: This was originally written for the Dice Camera Action 'Wafflefam Writing Club" prompt 'Fury'.

* * *

The low rumble of thunder drew ever closer to the tower window, like a hungry beast closing in on its prey. Strahd von Zarovich, conqueror and rightful lord of all Barovia, narrowed his eyes at the oncoming storm. _The Dark Powers are growing restless_, he thought to himself. _I have managed to reign in my temper this long, but I may not be strong enough to withstand it much longer._

A bubble of laughter reached his ears from the dining room, where the newlyweds were no doubt enjoying their meal. He had excused himself early, relieved to escape the tender looks and words they exchanged with one another. Strahd now paced his study angrily, trying to burn away the smoldering jealousy before it could consume him.

_Katarina had warned me the price would be dear_, he reminded himself. To gain the full powers they promised him, he would need to take the life of someone close; someone who loved or revered him, and drink their blood. He knew that the Powers intended for it to be his brother, but despite the fact that Sergei was the only obstacle between Strahd and the woman he desired, he also knew that Tatyana would never forgive him for such a dark act. And despite the fact that Strahd found Sergei completely undeserving of such a bride, it did not change the fact that they were family. The importance of family and honor were tenets that had been ingrained in every member of the von Zarovich line.

The glare of light from the fireplace began to irritate his eyes. He grabbed the iron poker and shattered the burning log into pieces, then poured water liberally over the scattered remains. The hiss and smoke of the dying embers pleased him, also cooling the fire within his own heart.

Despite the growing darkness of the room, he found that he could still see clearly. _Another taste of their gifts_, he realized, somewhat amused at their continued attempts to seduce him. If they could not convert him at once, then they would do so gradually. The Dark Powers were remnants of ancient gods, eternal and timeless. They understood the value of patience.

As he settled himself into his favorite armchair, he noticed the Taroka cards Katarina had left on the table. She had told him the interpretation of her reading: that an assassination attempt was eminent, and that a paladin, sorcerer, rogue and Vistani would take part, led by the Duchess herself. He had been looking forward to foiling their attempt and unmasking the traitor, but their skills were so amateurish as to be embarrassing. The nightshade leaves floating in his soup had been obvious, as was the attempted distraction in setting his tapestry on fire. He had liked that tapestry though... He felt his blood pressure start to rise, and forced it down. At least the portrait of Tatyana had been saved.

He strained his ears to catch a few words of her melodic voice from the other room. He found that he didn't have to work hard at all to pick up their conversation. _Another gift_, he realized, shaking his head. But as the words of the overheard lovers became clear to him, Strahd quickly shifted his attention elsewhere. _I had better not be able to hear them in their bedchamber_, he growled to himself.

But his enhanced hearing did pick up the sound of something small scrambling through the fireplace. He expanded his senses in a way that he hadn't been aware he could do, and made a connection with a primitive mind.

It was a bat. The thing had become disoriented the night before and hid inside the chimney when dawn arrived. It hadn't minded the warmth of the fire that crackled far enough below, but when Strahd had caused the coals to steam, the smoke had begun to choke the little creature, and now it sought a way out. Deciding to test this new power of his, Strahd beckoned the rodent to ignore its instinct to rise up to fresher air, and to instead drop down to the fireplace where Strahd could observe it.

The rodent, seemingly desperate to please Strahd, also told him that it had found something potentially interesting lodged between one of the gaps in the stonework. Strahd suggested that the bat dislodge it and carry it to him.

The furry brown body emerged from the chimney holding a partially burnt fragment of parchment between its claws. Strahd liberated the bat of its burden and carried it to the window. He found himself buffeted by a strong gust of cold air as he undid the latch and raised the glass pane open. The bat looked at Strahd as if asking for permission, and after he nodded, it dove back into the night.

Strahd shut the window, though he found that the cold did not particularly bother him, and cast a curious glance at the parchment. The page had an odd texture that reminded him of old necromantic tomes he had come across that were bound in human skin. The experience had repulsed him before, but did not do so now. Such books were often written in human blood, and after a close examination, he found that it was also likely the case here.

_Words written in blood..._ It reminded him of a conversation he had recently had with Tatyana and Sergei, when he had confronted them about their foiled attempt to leave the castle. They told him that the assassins had shown them a book, supposedly in his own handwriting, filled with his confessions about the horrors he had committed after accepting the dark gifts. Strahd had been ready to dismiss the whole thing as ludicrous, but his chamberlain Rahadin had overheard the conversation and admitted that he had seen the book, and used sorcery to divine that it was genuine. Strahd had then demanded to see the tome for himself, but Rahadin claimed to have misplaced it.

The fact that Strahd now held a piece of it in his hands did not bode well for the dusk elf's future. Even more treacherous was the fact that there had obviously been an attempt to destroy the pages. If Strahd had not heard the bat, and it had not seen the page that had so auspiciously been trapped in the chimney...

He felt his fury rise again, but smothered it with effort. _This was no mere luck_, he reasoned. _The Dark Powers wanted me to find this. They want me to kill Rahadin, a faithful servant whose blood would fulfill their pact as easily as my brother's._

"Elder?" a voice asked hesitantly from the doorway. "Are you well?"

Strahd's back straightened in the chair, surprised at having been caught off guard. Conflicting emotions crossed his features; he was both touched that she cared enough to check up on him, and irked by her use of the word 'elder', reminding him of the age difference between them. The fact that he had wasted so much of his youth on the battlefield was his greatest regret, especially as it now seemed to come between him and the woman he desired. He knew that she was simply using the word as a polite form of address, but she would not have failed to notice the wrinkles near his eyes, or the grey at his temples.

"I am fine, Tatyana." No wonder the girl was concerned for him, fleeing the dinner table after barely tasting the meal, and now isolating himself in the dark. At least it would seem dark to her, but he could still see perfectly. Out of politeness, he struck a tinderbox to light the candle next to him.

She approached him more warily than he would have liked, but then, she had already seen a hint of his temper the day she and his brother had attempted to escape. He had had beheaded the assassins himself, as law demanded, but it had disturbed her greatly. She was still of the belief that the renegades had been trying to save her and Sergei from him, which was absurd. So as not to upset her further, he had ordered the heads to be buried alongside the bodies, rather than impaled on spikes above the entrance as was custom.

Distracted by those memories, he did not notice her take the burnt piece of parchment out of his hand until it was too late to stop her. She winced as she read it, apparently recognizing it as he had.

"I thought you said your chamberlain had lost the book."

Strahd grimaced. "That is the excuse he gave me. Clearly I will need to have a much longer talk with him."

Tatyana frowned in return. "You won't hurt him, will you?"

No doubt she had reached the same conclusion he had about the Dark Powers' intent. "He deserves to be punished... but no. For both our sakes, I will simply banish him from these lands." In whatever version of the world that book had come from, a poisonous, unbreachable wall of mist had apparently sealed off Barovia and prevented anyone from leaving. That had not happened here... yet. He would have to be sure Rahadin left before that happened.

"You have a kind heart, elder."

Strahd nearly snorted in derision at that statement, but stopped himself when he realized that Tatyana was being earnest. Katarina had told him something similar on the day of the wedding, warning him to be careful. "If I am such a bastion of goodness, why is it then that the Dark Powers have chosen me to be their instrument?" he asked his half-sister then.

"They are beings of corruption. It is precisely because you are so worthy that they seek to have you." Katarina was usually right about such things, having inherited the Sight from her Vistani mother. But she was also clearly under the thrall of the Dark Powers, who had used her to deliver their offer to him. That made her advice to him suspect. Yet she had also given him enough warnings that he realized she still had some amount of control over her words.

Thunder crashed overhead, causing Tatyana to jump. Strahd was out of his chair and at her side before he even realized what he was doing. _How did I move so fast?_ he wondered in amazement. Finding himself suddenly close to her, he realized that it would take only a slight lowering of his head to press his lips to hers. He was overwhelmed by her youth and beauty, by the scent of her ...by the pulse of blood beating in her throat. Stunned by that awareness, and horrified at what it might lead him to do, he took a step back and reached his arms out to steady her, as if that had been his intention all along. He had moved so quickly that she seemed completely unaware of what he had almost done.

"This castle is so much closer to the clouds; I'm not used to the thunder being so loud," she explained, blushing. Strahd could almost see the rise of blood to her face, pooling beneath those rosy cheeks. It took all the discipline he had honed over years on the battlefield not to succumb to his temptations. Perhaps the Dark Powers would choose Tatyana to replace Rahadin as his victim. The irony of him gaining the youth and powers that were supposed to help him win Tatyana's heart-only by killing her in the process-was not lost to him. No doubt the dark gods would find it wonderfully amusing.

The thunder roared again, as if laughing in agreement. Strahd dared not test his strength of will any longer, and led Tatyana out of the study and back to the dining room where her husband waited.

"I am certain Sergei will be able to comfort you until the storm passes." Those words filled him with disgust, but he dared not show it. He would have to train his mind to stop seeing Tatyana as a prize within his reach. He had to accept that she was Sergei's, and was now a part of his family, under his protection. Yes, perhaps that would do it.

"Wait, let me give you this," Strahd told her, before she could run back to his brother's waiting arms. He unfastened the clasp holding the red jewel at his throat, the von Zarovich ruby that symbolized his place in the royal line. He did not need it now; he had his own lands to rule over. "I would like you to have this; to symbolize that you are now my sister."

The size of her smile was as great as the frown of suspicion on his brother's face, both of which made Strahd equally happy. Hopefully the sight of red around her neck would remind him not only of their bond, but of what risked happening if he again came too close to her. Pleased with himself, he felt the fury he had carried within him these last few weeks finally begin to abate. The storm clouds too, seemed to have expended their anger, as the sound of thunder receded into the distance.

Strahd, lord of Barovia, was one with the land. And for the time being-however long that might last-both were safe.

* * *

Note: Though I don't claim this ficbit to be deserving enough to be a sequel to DCA episode 57, titled "Wrath of Strahd", I couldn't really find a more appropriate name ("Fury of Strahd" doesn't have quite the same ring to it). It was somewhat inspired by the letter Chris Perkins shared with fans, which could be a sort of epilogue to this story, and can be found here:

r/DiceCameraAction/comments/6sj832/tatyanas_letter_as_shared_by_chris_perkins/


End file.
